


I'll Put You on the Map

by maplewoodmoth



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Gen, I'm so glad that I don't have to create any of these tags, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishbalan Character(s) | Ishvalan Character(s), Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, more tags will be added as I write more about this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-10-31 13:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplewoodmoth/pseuds/maplewoodmoth
Summary: Resembool is such a small village between the border of Amestris and Ishbal, that growing up between cultures, between worlds isn't so much of a challenge until it is. Growing up is never easy, after all. Here's a little bit about what it's like.Mostly train of thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from House of Gold by TøP  
> Resembool is so close to the border of Amestris and Ishval, somebody talk to me about Ishvalan!Elric Brothers and I’ll love you forever

These are the Elric brothers because they always are as how it is. These are brothers with their mothers features and their fathers coloring with eyes that shine rose gold in the light and pale blonde hair almost bleached white in the sun. These are two brothers, as in the stories, because there are always two brothers. That’s how it starts: /there/ always is, there /always/ is, there always /is/.

These are two brothers for whom bad things come in threes as they always do. This is two brothers, whom, when Brother Seth asks them in a sarcastic tone if “they too are seeking to be like the stories, like they haven’t learned from those before them that those in the stories who challenge, it never ends well. And for two brothers? Least of all.” 

Brother Seth, who elder Hecuba hits upside the head and twists his ear to yell more clearly into it, because these boys may be dumb but they’re smart and by gosh they’ll survive if she has to help them drag their souls back into the light.

These two Elric brothers, for whom alchemy is less an infringement on God’s right, than a science: an art of attempt and failure and challenge and equivalent exchange. Because what do the stories tell of, if not about sacrifice? The Elric Brothers, to whom the first words to the truth at the gate are a challenge: these boys who would dare fist fight something that claims itself divine. 

Brothers who refuse to call The Dwarf in the Flask by the name of Father, because they have no father. Because they are not children of man or even Van Hohenheim, they are children of woman and god and the earth built from clay and bone and deep deep love. Most importantly though, they are children of Ishval. 

These boys who challenge a being so cruel as to let their people suffer and let their people die one by one, who laughs in the face of mortality. So Ed and Al claim it back and fight by the skin of their teeth and they /win/.


	2. Grief, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the mourning rites of Ishbal are familiar and comforting, in the way that grief and darkness are. Something well worn and exhausting that you have to greet and let into your home where it settles in the cracks and refuses to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> figured I might as well post something even if it's not much

1\. Van Hohenheim   
When Van Hohenheim leaves it’s less mourning and more anticipatory waiting of when he will come back, at first. This is when Ed first starts growing his hair out though Al refuses because he keeps insisting that Dad will come back. Al refuses to say the words even after Dad has been gone two years, three years, five years and then Mom is gone and Ed doesn’t care about giving that bastard the rights of a culture that doesn’t belong to a man that never bothered to stay, that never tried to, he feels, understand. 

2\. Mom.   
Their cries of “Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, dayan ha-emet” are less cries and more outright sobs (in Ed’s case) or hollow, empty echoes (in Al’s case). Tearing their clothes is an effort, because their hands are small and their grief is great and what are they to do?

Aveilut for mom is probably the worst, by far, and this isn’t just Ed and Al’s memories presenting themselves as the first is the worst. One is for sorrow after all, and their mother’s death may not have been the first one they experience, but it is the first one that really truly hits close to home. Because the Rockabells died when they are small, small enough that the grief, while encompassing, passes by for other things happening because life goes on. Dad leaving was just that, less a death and more a death of knowing, a death of innocence. 

Having the strangers in their home, /their/ home just aches and Ed rages at night and cries and then rages more to pretend not to be crying and Al cries and cries until Ed panics and calms down enough to pretend to be strong. Even if it only lasts a week, it helps that Granny insists that they stay with her and Winry in the automail shop for the week and then after. Because while it is their home it also isn’t, all hollow and empty of the Mom who made it home with her soft words and the shabbat and smell of baking challah and and and…. 

Burning it down is almost like a benediction and Al almost whispers to Ed that the blaze should last seven days and seven nights as well. When Ed carves the Yahrtzeit into his state alchemist watch to remind him of their mistakes, he almost wishes that it was less a mistake and more a celebration of remembrance as it should have been.

3\. Nina and Alexander  
The Kaddish is, at this point, becoming more easy to directly recall and comfortable to recite than either Al or Ed are comfortable, especially in times like this. Any other prayer they might be more comfortable with, but no, the mourning prayer is the one they (although rusty) know best. Syllables and vowels tripping off their tongue (and helmet) one after another, dripping like dark molasses, draining like grief. 

The Keriah that Ed and Al make for Nina and Alexander is over their right hearts because, because “big brother Edward” is not just something you forget. And Ed curses at the sky, because if only being family was enough to ward away grief and tragedy, but both he and Al know better than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * researching Jewish funerals was so interesting I might actually write a more in depth chapter about the Elrics and their community and the Kaddish and the whole community at this point.


	3. Grief, Part 2

4\. Maes  
Ed and Al are /furious/ at Colonel Bastard for not telling them as soon as possible because can they recite the Kaddish? Has it been less than 30 days? When is the anniversary? Is it safe to tear their clothes? And also Maes is dead and the Bastard didn’t even bother /telling/ them much less the truth at that. And that hurts. 

With Maes it only feels right to tear at their clothes because he may have been a military dog but he was /theirs/ and he was nosy and /cared/ and. Nobody new has gotten close enough to care about them in a long time, not that they’ve let anyone get close but Maes was. He was good. He was different. But he still died. 

Ed tears his Keriah on the left lapel of his coat, and Al shreds a bit of his “hair”. At this point there’s not much left and with all the wear and tear it just keeps getting shorter. Neither brother has voiced this fact though they both noticed it. 

They make sure to say their eulogies on the Shabbat because while Maes wasn’t one of their people, he was theirs and they want to do this right. They each bring a handful of dirt to sprinkle on the grave. Al wants to plant flowers but Ed doesn’t think it would be right. They compromise and leave a fresh bouquet at the already crowded gravesite and go to Gracia and Elicia’s home to grieve with family. 

5\. Ling.   
Ed refuses to mourn for Ling but he feels. Empty. He wonders if he should mourn, should tear his clothes and grieve loudly and openly or softly and quietly for this gentile who wormed his way into Ed’s heart in such an impossibly short time. He snorts, thinking that Ling would prefer the loud wailing, because he did everything loudly. Including, Ed swallows in a suddenly dry throat, leave.   
Because every time Ed turns expecting to see the idiot prince smiling wide, he just sees empty windows and full dishes and his stomach hurts. 

6\. Fu  
Fu’s burial they leave up to Lan Fan. They’d offer, but Ed and Al both respect wanting to be buried by your own traditions. The thought that Lan Fan and Ling want to burn his body to take the ashes back with them though is, different to say the least. They understand the theory in principle, because theory is their thing after all. But in practice? It goes too much against their ingrained beliefs probably.   
Same with the way the homunculi’s tattoos had Ed freaked out for /days/. 

So Al and Ed may not be able to understand Lan Fan and Ling’s wishes, but that doesn’t mean they won’t help, they’re not terrible people after all. Al transmutes an urn, decorated to look like Fu’s mask, for them to take home his ashes in. 

Lan Fan wouldn’t say it but she glares a little less harder than usual, her face softening into something like fondness at the brothers. Ling outright throws himself at the boys in his gratitude, and if Ed’s heart beats a little faster, and his face is a little (lot) redder than usual, well, he can blame it on the mood in general and everything that’s happened. 

7\. Greed  
With Greed there is nothing to bury, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t grieve for the homunculus. That doesn’t mean that Ed and Al can’t comfort the closest thing Greed had to a brother with the Tziduk Hadin. Telling Ling quietly, at the unveiling of the matzevah (fit for a king), quietly as they never are except in grieving “Hamakom y'nachem etkhem b'tokh sha'ar avelei tziyon viyrushalayim”. 

The Kaddish is an old friend for them at this point, and when Ling asks what the words mean, in a halting, sad way- quiet in a way he never is- Ed stops reciting, Al following shortly after. It’s not that they’ve never thought about it before, the words that they say- that they know and feel, deep in their souls- but translating is difficult. 

They wouldn’t be the Elric brothers if they didn’t love a challenge though. Ed cracks his neck and rolls both shoulders as if preparing for a fight, and starts. Stops. Starts again. Trying to explain the meaning behind the words they both know so well. 

“Well ah, it goes like this”

And he starts the words again, slowly. “Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, dayan ha-emet”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have any terms wrong somebody tell me because I write for fun, not to offend people.   
> Any suggestions from what to write next? I'm thinking about writing more in depth about Trisha or the brothers and the community after her death.


	4. Parting Shots

People always tend to think that Edward gets his temper from his father. After all, he gets his looks- his eyes, his hair color, his alchemy talent- from his father.   
Trisha knows better, Van would never hurt a fly, not after his past and his history. Arguing isn't in his talent. 

Trisha on the other hand, is well known throughout the community as a firebrand. Arguing about the Beginning and the Laws with the local Rabbi.   
About when and who should say the Kaddish if a beloved deceased has no children.   
About whether the mention of frogs in the plagues was one big frog or many tiny frogs. If there was something to questiom, Trisha questioned it. If there was something to argue, Trisha argued it. 

Not that it did much the one time she needed to win an argument. Van still left, despite how she understands it, despite how she hates it, despite how she loves him, staying wasn't enough and arguing. She didn't win. Maybe she left him something to think about, however. She's still gonna wait for the idiot though.


	5. Chekhov’s Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dog’s reaction to the gun time after time after time

For all that Ed’s done that’s probably against haram or God or whatever he believes in at this point, there are some things he can’t bring himself to do. 

Staring at the gun, resting innocuously on the desk before him, the gun issued to alchemists and people of the military, the dogs of amestris for the home and hope of the brave and all that rot- as if he actually needs it to cause damage- is one of those things. 

It’s the act the symbolism of it all isn’t it? Isn’t it?? He doesn’t know. 

He can cause so much damage with his two hands: even with one hand, his alchemy is still a skill he’s proud of, one that brings him renown and one that he loves from it’s fundamentalism and simple complexity and the way it makes him work to think. Stomping, clapping, cicle or not, one handed or two handed, he has his mind

And with a mind like his, it can be a curse as much as a blessing. 

Especially in times like these; dark times, where he can’t help but stare at the gun. 

He could end it all, with a clap of his hands. Matter is simple and complicated at the same time, to reconstruct and rearrange. And to deconstruct? Simple. Worryingly simple. So simple that he could do it without thinking about it too hard. But for this, for his sake and Al’s sake. He doesn’t. 

It would be the symbolism more than anything, he thinks faintly, feeling his hands tremble, metal and organic alike, slightly. 

It would be deserved, he thinks, words dropped solidly in his head. For everything he’s done. For mom, for Al, for leaving their little community and trying to be more than he is, for even daring to follow Van Hoenheim’s footsteps into alchemy (Al followed him in his curiousity and sometimes Ed is distressingly grateful that he wasn’t alone in his fate and he hates himself so much for thinking this), for the philosopher’s stone and it’s secret. One less person to spread its knowledge. 

But there are some things he still cannot bring himself to do, and this is one of them.   
So he leaves the gun, but not the temptation. 

Both are for another day.


	6. the stars up in our bedroom after the war

Before the war. 

When the war started. 

Well there wasn’t peace, not quite- but little mixed families like theirs weren’t so uncommon around the borders. There are whole communities of them, the ones that don’t fit quite right in; the ones who are too much of one to be completely part of the other. 

It’s not quite as bad, then. The being mixed race. There are other mixed families too: part Xingese, part Cretan, part others. Amestris has never had the most open borders, but well, people travel, people move- they relocate. It’s natural, and normal right up until it’s not. The stress and bigotry has always been there but well. Ignorance and fear go hand in hand, the boys know. 

It’s in the way Trisha goes out less, when there are visitors coming to their small village. And not at all when the troops deployments stop by for train transfers or supplies. 

It’s not all bad, in their small village: it’s a small tight knit community after all. But there are differences. Like how a lot of the other Ishvalan children or mixed race families stop sending their children to public school, and start home-schooling them, until there’s enough of them out of school that one of the Elders suggests holding a small daily school at the temple, kind of like Shabbat. 

Ed and Al are still ahead of their classes, they always have been. But they have friends and not-quite cousins to temper their needs to get ahead and their boredom. The best part of Al’s days are the language classes: because it doesn’t come easy, the way the syllables roll off their tongues or get stuck in their throats. The school is open to other mixed families, not just Ishvalan, so sometimes they practice the languages they didn’t grow up hearing at their mother’s knees. Ed’s not a huge fan of language lessons: after all, math and science are the universal language; their answers always stay the same and Sister Hana says that math is the closest thing they have to Elohim’s voice. He likes that. Language is too funny, always changing. It helps when Al teases Ed, that ‘it’s not that complicated big brother! It’s just like a code that’s always changing!’. It’s still not his favorite, though. 

They stick together in their little community. It’s nice. 

What’s not nice is how Mr. Hammond refuses to sell them milk anymore, or how Mrs. Gonzalaz pulls her children away from Trisha and her little family on the streets, hissing that their eyes are the sign of the devils they hide inside. Or how some out of towners trashed one of the Kosher Grocery stores. Or how they aren’t allowed into certain stores in towns and cities farther out, signs indicating that their kind isn’t welcome there. Trisha always comes back from her out of town visits with warm smiles that become more and more strained. 

It’s not that hard for the boys to slide under the radar: they may be their mother’s boys through and through, but in looks they do take after their father a little more. Their hair is all pale golden blonde, bright as the sun and pale as the moon; and skin just dark enough to be called tan from their days of running outside. If people don’t look too closely, everything could just be attributed to the outside. Of course if they look more closely they’ll see it; in their facial structure, so much like their mother’s, in their manners, how they scuff their shoes at the door before entering, in their stories and folk tales and ways of looking at the world. In their eyes. Al’s especially. Red as anything. Red as the sunset reflecting across the lake near Dublith. Red as a cherry tomato ready to be picked. Red as the blood being spilled over the border.


End file.
